


Dear Death, it's not over yet

by TheAmazonHuntress



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23010694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAmazonHuntress/pseuds/TheAmazonHuntress
Summary: It was never her intention to escalate anything further especially since they had just met before that terrorist attack and the loss of his father, but she had appeared at an upscale apartment down in New York.UNBETA'd first attempt to write for T'Challa and Natasha.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/T'Challa (Marvel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Dear Death, it's not over yet

The air smells of ashes, smoke and defeat.

Her head is still pounding after their fight against Thanos. She scrambles to her feet with some effort and walks toward Okoye. Tentatively, she puts a hand on her shaking shoulders. Okoye twitches against the touch, then relaxing when she realizes it's Black Widow.

"What just happened here?" Natasha asks quietly, looking around her in disbelief. They’ve been at this exhausting war for what feels like an eternity.

At a distance she sees Steve slumped in a seated position on the ground, Bucky's armour resting in his lap. He looks completely _distraught_. It hurts her to see him like this, to feel like she hasn’t done enough, in an already impossible battle. A few feet further away stands Wanda holding dear to Vision's lifeless body as she cries into the sky.

She turns her head back to Okoye as an unsettling feeling pits in her stomach.

"Okoye," Natasha asked reluctantly, "Where's the King?" 

**BEFORE**

The Avengers arrive in Wakanda. The Black Panther and his army of the Dora Milaje awaits them outside. Natasha shakes Okoye's hand and nods at Ayo, who returns a cold glare. She decides that soon they'll warm up to each other, what with the impending war looming over their heads. She turns to T'Challa and shakes his already extended hand.

"Glad to see you again, miss Romanoff."

"Likewise, your highness.” Her eyes scan his Vibranium clad armor. “Nice suit."

“Compliments to my sister.”

Their hands linger before he releases her to greet the Captain.

“Steve, I wish you would’ve visited me under lighter circumstances.”

Steve smiles amusingly. “Maybe another time.”

“Come, let me show you around.” T'Challa guides Steve inside the building. The Avengers followed suit.

**THEN**

It was never her intention to escalate anything further especially since they had just met before that terrorist attack and the loss of his father, but she had appeared at an upscale apartment down in New York.

 _Figures,_ she thinks to herself as she closes the Location finder app on her iPad, tucking it into her bag. She knocks a few times on the door and waits.

After a moment or two the door opens and she is met with T’Challa standing in the doorway, dressed in a casual black sweater.

“How’d you find me?” T’Challa demanded, his voice raspy and raw. She stares wordlessly and waits for him to step aside to let her in. She closes the door softly and puts her black bag on the table, walking toward the window.

“I figured these regal apartments were more your style, so it helped me narrow down possible locations of your whereabouts.” she says, peering out the window. She continued, “You shouldn’t be dealing with loss by yourself, trust me, it doesn’t do anyone good.” Nathasha looks at T’Challa pointedly then. 

“After tonight I’ll be returning back home, to grieve in the comfort of my home and give my father a proper burial.” he sighs, sinking into the couch.

“You should go, Natasha. I appreciate your concern but this is not the right time for comforting words.”

“Are my words comforting, your highness?” She's testing the waters, but wishes she could take back what she said. This is not the right time for her antics, she knows that. She bites her lower lip softly. T’Challa looks at her with hooded eyes, like a panther on the lookout for its next prey.

She tries to read into his look but quickly realizes he’s hard to figure out, which makes him both mysterious and her more curious to learn about his character. He’s a stark contrast to Steve, who reads like an open book. It’s not difficult to sense what he is feeling. She likes the challenge. 

“Why are you here?” T’Challa asks then, changing the subject. She slowly makes her way to the couch, taking a seat next to him. 

“I’m on a mission but I need to know I can count on you if I ever get into trouble.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in me, as we have only just met.” he says, looking into her eyes. “Why now?”

“‘Cause you’re one of the only people I trust.”

That answer seems to soften the look on his face as he seemingly lets his guard down.

“Okay,” he nods, extending a hand. “You can count on me, as I’m sure I can count on you.” she returns the smile, taking his hand. “You can,” she nods, holding his hand longer than she should have as he is sitting upright on the couch. 

“Natasha-” T’Challa whispers, his voice laden with guilt, the rawness of it, opens up something inside like a pit fire in her stomach. She inches closer until they are sharing their breaths.

“Shh,” she puts a finger against his lips and replaces it with her lips as they kiss. The kiss is chaste, but his lips feel warm to the touch, making her move closer to his body. His arm wraps around her waist as he urges her into him. Her eyes closes shut as he maneuvers her on the couch in a lying position. She opens her eyes when she feels him pulling away as he stands up from the couch, running a hand across his face.

“You should go now.” Natasha gets up and reluctantly moves closer, before deciding against it, grabbing her bag instead.

“If that’s what you want.” she tries again, the silence between them thickening as the look in his eyes intensifies.

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

She nods, walking her way past him to the door. 

  
  


**NOW**  
  


Natasha snaps out of her thoughts as Okoye grabs her spear, planting it firmly into the ground to lever herself up. She looks upon the ruining of Wakanda. Her army of Dora Milaje has fallen, the Jabari Tribe, as well as most of The Border Tribe. W’Kabi. _Sthandwa Sam._

"The _King_ is _gone_ .” Okoye says, her lips trembling as tears fill her eyes. “ _Wam Kumkani_ , I have failed you," she whispered, bowing her head. Natasha squeezes Okoye's arm in an attempt to console her through her grief. She's always been terrible with comforting people, let alone saying goodbye. Not like this anyway.

“Okoye,” Natasha says then, shaking her head, “We’ll get him back. We'll get everyone back. You have to believe that.” Natasha says, trying hard to convince herself of that.

Okoye wipes at her eyes and stands up straight, giving Natasha a affirmative nod.

"I need to find Shuri." Okoye says, and turns to leave.

Natasha closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

The tears that streams down her face feels cold against her cheek.

**THAT EVENING**

Natasha is being escorted by two members of the Dora Milaje to the room she presumes to be of the King himself. The red clad warriors disappear before she gets the chance to thank them. She looks around the room and takes in its design. It's mostly a deep hue of purple, red, and of course, black. It matches his style; warm, inviting, rich. Her boots clack across the wooden floor as she passes the living room. She halts when she sees the King standing before the window, gazing outside. His broad shoulders covered up in a plain black body shirt. It fits him like a glove.

Natasha approaches him in silence. T’ Challa acknowledges her presence with a nod.

“Natasha, it's good to see you in good health.” he says, turning around to meet her gaze.

"-but I am not sure I'm very fond of the blond."

"What makes you say that?" She's surprised he even noticed.

"The red hair suits you. It gives you more...authenticity."

"I like change." Natasha says as matter of fact, and changes the subject.

“Speaking of change, what made you decide to let us into your territory?"

"It was my calling. I couldn't sit back and see the world turn to nothing. I would bear tremendous guilt, knowing that I could have intervened in any way."

T'Challa steps away from the window and goes to sit on the sofa. He motions for her to sit beside him.

"Please, miss Romanov, have a seat."

"As you wish." She sits on the other end of the sofa.

"While I take great pleasure in speaking to you, miss Romanov, I’m left wondering what brings you here?"

"A lot has happened last time we spoke. I wanted to check up on you, after, you know, what happened with your father. We kind of lost touch."

T'Challa nods. "I appreciate the gesture."

"How is your _prisoner_?" Natasha says, getting a smile from T'Challa. He should smile more often, it suits him well.

"He's not a prisoner any longer, with all the treatment he's had the privilege of receiving. He is now a free man. But if you must know, he's in good condition to fight."

"Good to hear." she says, feeling relieved. “Well, I should get going. It was nice talking to you.” he grabs her arm when she tries to get up from the sofa.

“Natasha, what are you not telling me?” T’Challa pleads, his grip on her arm loosening. She swallows, her throat dry as she scrambles for words to ease her worry.

“The party is starting sooner than we thought.” she admits, trying not to sound freaked out. Because she absolutely is. 

“Are you worried?" he asks her earnestly. She looks into his eyes and sighs. 

"Whatever's gonna happen out there I know we'll be alright." She's says, trying to convince herself because she wants to believe it, too.

“Natasha, ” T’Challa sighs, holding her wrist, searching her gaze. 

“I am to be wed.” 

“Oh,” Natasha quips, slowly retracting her wrists from his grip. “So that’s why you summoned me? You wanted to tell me in person.” 

“You have to understand that-”

“I know, T’Challa. You’re a King. And a King needs a queen. I get that.” 

“I am glad that you do,” he says yet notices some disdain in her tone and he doesn’t favor it. “I really am glad to see you alive.”

“It’s what we’re all striving to be lately.” Natasha says slowly, taking in his eyes again. Sometimes she doesn’t know if he looks like he wants to kiss her or tell her to leave. Either way, the cards are in his possession.

“I- should further prepare for tomorrow’s battle. We need to be ready. Please join me and my team to go over the rundown.”

T’Challa extends his hand out to her and waits for her to take it. She hesitates for a moment then reaches for his hand as is guided to the door and down the hallway to meet with the rest of the team.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. My first attempt at writing fic. I had this sitting in my drafts for a long time and never quit understood what moved me to write about these two. Just something about them sharing the little screen time they had sparked some curiosity in myself, exploring what they would be like having some liking towards each other.
> 
> AKA a bit of mixing and play around with scenes.


End file.
